What the New Day Shall Bring
by Ar-Firiel of Mirkwood
Summary: Aelfwyn is a young girl of Rohan who lives during the time of the War of the Ring. She finds herself taken from her home at Edoras to pass through all types of adventures. She learns of many things - love, sorrow, war, and courage. She will never be that simple Rohirric countrygirl again.
1. Chapter 1

For as long as their ancestry told, Aelfwyn of Strongplow's family had lived in Rohan. They had, for the most part, lived normal and ordinary lives, as common folk of Edoras who served their king and loved their horses.

Of course, every one of Aelfwyn's family had his story, no matter how mundane – each one had his secrets, his fears and his loves, his strengths and his sorrows. But few of them had stories that were remarkable enough for someone like you or me to want to hear about. The past centuries had been relatively peaceful, and the house of Strongplow was, as their epithet suggested, exceptional behind the plow, with a good yoke of oxen at the other end.

But Aelfwyn's times were changing. She had been born the only child to her parents, for her mother had grown ill during childbirth and never become strong enough to have a second child. Her father worked a farm – a very small farm, built on steep slopes of the hillock upon which the town rested – and Aelfwyn was obliged to work on it too, when she was not doing more domestic work, if they were to be able to put bread on their table. From this she learned discipline of the mind and body from a young age – the work was hard, and one rose at dawn to work until sunset. Since she had been old enough to work, she had gotten used to going to sleep each night with her muscles aching. So as she grew, she became a strong and hard-working young woman – willing to carry her burden and her neighbor's, and to carry it with a straight and strong back.

And it was a good thing, too. The time was changing. A shadow grew in the East. There would come a time when her people could no longer live quite lives here in Edoras. There would come a time when the Shadow would spread, and the crops would crumble, and the widows would send their children away on their horses to seek refuge while they stood up and fell to the countless swords of the foul enemy. When the blood of Rohan's slaughtered ones would cry out from the trampled ground.

It was a dream that came to Aelfwyn's mind, when she would lie awake at night listening to the breathing of her mother and father and the whickering of the horses in the yard. The terrible army of the East that people were beginning to speak of in the streets of the village, when the cruel and horrible soldiers – most were not men, people said, but a terrible breed of Uruk – would come tramping into the villages with their iron shoes and unmelodious voices, burning as they went, killing her people and her horses.

They never killed Aelfwyn, though, in the dreams. She always found a way to escape them. Sometimes she wished she didn't because living would mean living knowing they had killed her people. But she always found a way away – she'd climb out the back window into the yard behind their cottage, and mount one of the horses and run away in the moonlight, and leave her burning village behind. And then she'd wake up, sweating and listening to make sure she could still hear her parents' breathing.

She was dreaming the dream again tonight.

 _The raucous screams echoed lifelike in her ears as she heaved herself out the window, away from her sleeping parents, and whistled for her horse as the Uruks broke through the door. She heard her mother scream her name as she mounted her mare, and heard heard her father yell something, and then she heard nothing more in her house, except the slam of the door as the horrid Orcs streamed out, their work done. The house went up in flames as her mare Ascfaxi galloped away, paying no heed to how she tugged at the reins. She couldn't turn back for her mother and father. She could do nothing, only run as her people were slaughtered._

She woke with her throat dry, and her hands tangled in the sheets. On shaking legs, she rose from the bed, desiring a drink of water from the well. She exited the house as quietly as she could, welcoming the refreshing bite of the cold night air. She lifted her hands to her cold cheeks, and drew them away in surprise to find them wet – with tears! Tears. When had been the last time Aelfywn had cried?

 _I must do something_ , she thought. _Something to save my people._

 _But there is nothing you can do,_ thought the other half of her mind. _What can you do against such needless hate? You are one small girl in a great world._

 _There is always something to do,_ she replied. _Always something to help us save the good. And I am not alone. There are others. There are others who wish the same thing. Even if it is one sword among an army, one corpse among the fallen, and one grave in the yard, it is still something._

There was no reply from the other part of her mind. She smiled as she drew up the bucket from the well, cupped some water in her hands, and drank. It was cold and it burned her throat with that lovely feeling of life.

Barely a week went by before there was an audible commotion in the town. Aelfwyn was exercising her mare Ascfaxi in the corral when she heard the noise. Shading her eyes, she looked up towards Meduseld, the King's hall that stood upon the top of the hill, rising above the village. There were many figures standing on the terrace that overlooked the town, but she could see no better than that. She guided Ascfaxi out and trotted up through the village.

She could see the king! No one of the villagers had seen him for months until now. He was standing, sword in hand, next to a tall and grim Man she had never seen. His hair was dark, and by his looks he was not of Rohan. Higher above on the terrace stood the king's sister-daughter, and a few other figures whose faces she could not see well.

It was only a few more days before something else entirely unexpected happened. The king's guard, Hama, announced that all the men, women and children would be leave the village by evenfall for Helm's Deep, the great keep where many battles had been fought. Helm's Deep had won all of the battles – it would not fall while men defended it. An attack must have been coming.

So that night, they left for Helm's Deep with all the rest of the village. It was a slow road, through the mountains, and many of the people of Edoras were on foot – for although horses were important, many families could only afford one. The Strongplow house was lucky.

Aelfwyn readjusted her skirt as she fidgeted in the saddle. She switched the reins to her right hand for a moment, flexing her stiff fingers. Riding might be hard for the horse, but it is also hard for the rider.

It was slow travel, and altogether uninteresting. Aelfwyn talked very little, preferring to ride quietly with her head down and her hood up. She drifted to sleep more than once, falling forward on Ascfaxi and jerking back up again when her forehead touched his neck. After the third time, she finally surrendered and let herself fall to sleep for a while, cheek in her horse's mane.

She was rudely awoken by a scream. She heard the king shout, 'Eowyn!' and then saw his niece rushed over to him. One of the guards was on the ground, and she saw that some others had ridden off. She could see the forms of animals riding towards them. Then Eowyn, the king's niece, was rounding up the women and children. The riders and soldiers were going with the king.

Aelfwyn wondered why her horse was standing still before realizing she had stopped her, not knowing where to go in the surging tide of people. Turn right, and she would be fighting. Turn left and she would be hurried safely to Helm's Deep. Then someone grabbed Ascfaxi's bridle, and they were dragged toward the band led by Eowyn, the women and children and men too old to fight hastening on to Helm's Deep.


	2. Chapter 2

The Lady Eowyn was speaking to Aelfwyn, who woke again with a start. Ascfaxi was still plodding along.

'My lady,' said Aelfwyn, hastily throwing back her hood. 'I am sorry.'

'Think nothing of it,' said Lady Eowyn kindly, and then Aelfwyn saw her as just Eowyn, another girl in a wrinkled brown skirt. Aelfwyn dismounted out of courtesy as they walked.

'You are brave, my lady,' Aelfwyn said, and she was not quite sure why she said it.

'I am no more brave than the rest of my people,' Eowyn replied. 'I would rather have stayed and fought, but I have a duty to lead my people to the Deep.'

'I would have also,' said Aelfwyn, 'but I cannot because I am a woman.'

'Say not I, but we,' said Eowyn.

'I have heard that the Uruks are already on the march. Some have said they will meet us at Helm's Deep in the evening of tomorrow,' said Aelfwyn. 'Is it true?'

'I do not know,' said Eowyn. 'The king said that we will not hold out unless more help comes, from Gondor – Minas Tirith or the Morthond Valley. My brother Eomer is not yet come, and Erkenbrand – he led the Riders beside Theodred when he fell – I have not been seen for a fortnight. I fear that every man will be made to fight, and every boy who can bear a sword or bow.'

'Not the women?' Aelfwyn said, with a hint of bitterness in her voice. 'Folly it is to let the young lads risk their lives before sending women to the field, at least those who wish it. Some can fight, and some have enough valour at heart. What were they, my lady? The animals that were attacking us?'

'They were wargs and warg-riders,' Eowyn answered. 'Warg-riders are orcs, bred and trained to attack from the back of the wargs. They were scouts of Saruman. It is Saruman who is sending this army of Uruks to attack us – Saruman, who was our ally until he turned astray.'

'How did you learn of this, my lady?' inquired Aelfwyn.

'A shieldmaiden who sits in the company of kings learns much,' said Eowyn, and she smiled at Aelfwyn. 'You could have been a shieldmaiden. You are kind and brave and in your heart you desire to do great deeds in war, if I have read your words correctly. In that you are much like me.'

Aelfwyn smiled shyly toward the ground. 'You are not afraid, my lady,' Aelfwyn said. 'I try to be fearless, but there are still some things I fear.'

'There are also things I fear,' Eowyn said. 'Only they are not death and pain. It is not fearlessness that makes one great. It is bravery and a kind heart, and one cannot have courage without first knowing fear.'

Aelfwyn let the words of Eowyn fill her thoughts. 'How old are you, my lady? You seem young but your words are very wise.'

'I am twenty and four,' Eowyn replied.

'You surpass me in age, then,' Aelfwyn replied, laughing. 'I have only seen eighteen winters, and all of them in Rohan.'

So it was that when they camped that night, Aelfwyn sat with Eowyn. Aelfwyn's mother and father had gone further back – her mother was weak, and she needed to rest often. Aelfwyn's father had told her to go ahead.

Eowyn beckoned Aelfwyn to the fire next to her. Night had not yet fallen, but the sun was low, and westering quickly.

They sat in silence for a while, as Aelfwyn warmed her hands next to the flames. Eowyn rose and left and went to speak with someone else. Aelfwyn fell asleep without eating.

They reached Helm's Deep the next day. Erkenbrand had reached it before, they said, and with a thousand men. There were already guards at the gates, and men in the keep. The ones who had just arrived began to take their posts on the walls, watching for the army that would come – but also watching for the rest of their men, the ones who had stayed to fight the skirmish on the road to Helm's Deep. Aelfwyn stood upon the ramparts, looking into the distance. There were riders, and she could see the sounds of their horns. The guard who stood above the gate of the Deep blew his horn in answer.

The men raised the gates as the rest of the soldiers approached. Too many did not return. Aelfwyn watched with sadness in her heart. If she had stayed to fight, she would have returned, she thought.

Well, she soon would have the chance to fight. For just as Eowyn had said, the king did order every man and strong enough lad to go to the armory. So Aelfwyn followed, trying to be discreet. There were enough boys who looked like girls that she hoped to blend in. In any case, the man who was handing swords hardly looked up, and then all the men who had no armor were sent into the armory to find it for themselves. Aelfwyn followed them.

Looking among the dust-covered stands and racks, she managed to find a helm small enough to fit her, and a breastplate of leather that was not too heavy, nor too large. The sword they had given her, though; she looked down at it in dismay. The blade was notched and uneven. Furthermore, Aelfwyn had barely used a sword in all her life. She knew how to hold it and wasn't afraid to swing it, but apart from that she was useless with it. If only she could find a bow! She was a fair shot with a bow.

As if her wish had been answered, she turned and found an old bow leaning against the corner of the armory wall. It was dusty and spiders had built their webs from it onto the stone wall. She brushed away the webs with the blade of her sword, and lifted the bow away from the wall.

It was too tall for her, and the draw weight was heavy – it was fortunate she had a little practice drawing heavy bows, and that her shoulders were strong. She strung the bow and drew it to her jaw with effort, then carefully let it back again. There was a bow – there should be a quiver somewhere.

When Aelfwyn made her way out of the armory, she looked a boy. She had gotten rid of the skirt for a pair of leather trousers, and the breastplate and helm helped to hide the fact that she was indeed a woman. She had tucked her hair into her helm, as the men often did.

The next few hours were filled with tension. Each time someone uttered a quiet word, the sounds fell dead in the heavy air. Aelfwyn looked around without expression. She felt nothing. She did not know where her mother and father were, either – her mother had probably retreated to the caves with the rest, and her father was probably among the soldiers – unless he had fallen. She dismissed the thought without dwelling upon it.

Then the Orc-horns were heard in the distance, and the archers took their places on the front line, Aelfwyn among them. The man who Aelfwyn had seen with the king – his name was Aragorn, Eowyn told her – was in command of some. Eowyn had told her that he was a great man, that he was the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. Aelfwyn knew little of Gondor's history or lore, but a long-lost heir to a throne sounded quite a great man indeed.

The rain began to fall.

Aelfwyn could see their torches, burning even in the downpour, and hear their iron-shod feet stamping into the ground. Aelfwyn could not count them all, and knew not how – but someone had said there were ten-thousand at least, and how many men within the keep? A thousand and three hundred, maybe, if they had luck. Aelfwyn thought they would not hold out the night. She fingered the fletching of an arrow in the quiver. On her left, there stood an elf – one of Aragorn's companions – and on her right, a youthful man. His hair was dark, not as though he were of Rohirric lineage. Oh, never mind – Aelfwyn could ask questions after the battle. But the Uruks were a way off, and Aelfwyn was curious. So she asked anyway.

'Where do you come from, good sir?' she asked the man.

'I? I was born in Gondor, and raised for there for the while I was young, at which time my father and mother brought me to Rohan. Where do you come from, my lady?'

Aelfwyn then supposed it was a rather stupid idea to use her voice and betray her femininity. 'Was it my voice, sir, or my face that gave me away?'

'Your voice is lovely, my lady,' he said, 'as lovely as your face. Both it was. I'd advise a little blood on your cheeks before the night is done. And if you do not wish anyone else to know, try and be silent. I will not speak of it, if others cannot see it for themselves.' He smiled.

'And what is your name, sir?' Aelfwyn asked.

'Galadron,' he answered, and smiled.

'Mine is Aelfwyn,' she said, and then the command was shouted to nock an arrow. Galadron turned back and they nocked their arrow.

- _draw your bows,_ she heard the cry. All of the men drew their bows, aiming at the oncoming orcs.

'Hold,' came the cry, and they held, bowstring cutting into their fingers. Aelfwyn waited.

It seemed an eternity before Aragorn gave the cry, and then at once all the arrows sang. Almost every one bit into one of the charging Orcs. Most of the front line fell, and the rest roared with animal-like voices. The archers continued to draw and shoot, each aiming for another Uruk.

Then the creatures reached the wall, and brought up ladders. Galadron was still next to Aelfwyn – he drew his sword as the ladders were raised. She stifled a scream and shot another Orc. Then something hit her on the head and her vision began to wane, and Galadron turned and pushed her down into a ditch beside the wall, and she let her eyes close.


	3. Chapter 3

When Aelfwyn woke, she was still in the ditch, which had now filled with rain. She was soaked to her very blood, and she shivered in her armour. The sun had come up. She rolled over stiffly and painfully, and she could see her reflection in the water that had gathered in the ditch. She was pale and her lips were dark, and her hair had come down and was soaked, plastered to her face. She sneezed, and the vibration sent ripples through the rainwater. When it stilled again, she pulled off her helmet. There was dark blood in her hair. She made a face at her reflection, and then laughed at it, and wondered if she was insane. There was pain in all of her body. Not pain as though she was actually hurt, just a soreness in every muscle and bone, and a deathly chill.

 _Am I dead?_ She wondered. Then she thought that if she were dead, she probably would not still be at Helm's Deep. Then another thought crossed her mind.

 _How long have a been here? Have they all left me here alone?_ Then sudden fear filled her, and she slowly raised herself out of the water.

She looked over the ramparts onto the field below.

Bodies choked the earth, which was stained black with Orc blood. She stayed a sudden urge to throw up and cry. There were bodies of her own people on the ground – all too many of them were dead. She averted her gaze, and turned back towards the keep. Slowly and dizzily, she made her way down the stairs to a lower level of the fortress, and then stumbled forward, pushing open the broken door and entering the keep. There were men in there, sitting and speaking in hushed voices. It was a grim sight. She wandered through the rooms aimlessly, forgetting why she was there. Then she heard a voice behind her.

'I had almost forgotten you,' Galadron said, and she turned to see him for the first time without a helm. His shapely face was lit with a half-smile, and his brown hair tumbled around his muscled shoulders and down his back.

'Oh,' said Aelfwyn, and almost forgot herself. 'I had forgotten you completely, if truth be told, Galadron.'

'Not completely, if you remember my name,' he said. 'You look a mess, Aelfwyn.'

'I feel a mess, too,' said Aelfwyn. 'I was lying in a ditch full of rain since last night. The ditch you pushed me in.'

'Oh, yes,' said Galadron. 'I pushed you into the ditch when I saw that there was an arrow in your helm. I wasn't quite sure if you were dead or not, so I pushed you in in the case that you were alive and the enemy would overlook your body. It seems to have worked.'

'In that case, thank you,' said Aelfwyn, and ran a hand through her soaked hair. 'I suppose the arrow would explain the blood in my hair.'

'You really are a mess,' said Galadron, and beckoned her forward. 'Come, let us find you something dry to wear.'

After a few hours and a bit of searching, Galadron and Aelfwyn stood together on the wall, looking out over the fields below. Aelfwyn was dressed in her old skirt, which was dry, and Galadron had helped her find something to eat. She had drunk of the collected rainwater in a bucket she'd found sitting outside.

Aelfwyn lifted herself up on the wall, and sat down on the stone, her back to the field. Galadron hoisted himself beside her, as she asked him of the battle. He told her of what had happened after she had lost consciousness. Then they both fell silent.

'I've always loved the way the air smells after a rain,' Aelfwyn said after a while.

'It smells of fresh wood and dew,' said Galadron. 'I love it too.'


End file.
